Faith
by SamanthaRose
Summary: When the road to Zanarkand takes a surprising turn, a summoner finds himself beginning to question everything he believes in. No pairings, takes place during the events of FFX.


There was a flurry of movement outside the door, the sort of commotion that was usually raised when something was wrong and the people who knew about it were trying to figure out the best way to tell someone who was directly involved.

Maroda hadn't been sleeping. He had feigned sleep to humor his older brother and had listened in the dark as the man crept out. Isaaru wasn't running... he was just going out to say goodbye to the sea. Some things needed to be done alone.

Movement outside the door meant that something had happened to his brother.

Getting up and checking to make sure that Pacce was still asleep, Maroda moved to open the door. A knock would have woken the youngest member of their tiny family, and if the news was bad, Maroda would rather the boy not find out.

There were two people on the other side of the door. One was the Al Bhed woman who worked the counter, the other looked to be a priest. Maroda met their startled gazes, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

"Walk and talk. I want my brother to sleep." His tone left no room for argument. They followed him as he moved to the front of the rest stop, both anxiously silent until he indicated it was safe.

"The summoner, Lord Isaaru... I'm afraid something terrible has happened." The priest said unhelpfully.

"He fell from the bank." The Al Bhed woman confirmed. "He's alive, but I'm not sure he's well. You may need to have him see a healer."

"What do you mean, you're not sure he's well? Is he sick?" Maroda demanded, the priest stepping forward.

"Well... he's... he is raving, I'm afraid."

Raving? Isaaru wasn't known for being particularly passionate or outspoken. He didn't raise his voice, he didn't often get angry, so hearing he was raving made little sense.

Nodding at the others, Maroda pushed past them. "Where is he?"

"Outside." The Al Bhed indicated the direction. "A-and he's _ynsat_. Um... armed."

"My brother doesn't carry weapons." Maroda frowned.

"Well, he has a sword now. Won't put it down, actually." The Al Bhed shrugged in a defeated manner.

Sighing, Maroda moved out of the rest stop to find his brother.

…

The red leather wrapped around the hilt of the sword had long since warmed in his hand, his hold on the weapon serving as a grip on reality. Not wanting to stare at the skull adorning the base of the blade, Isaaru stared blankly at the other side of the Chocobo corral, his heart still thundering in his ears.

The water that had pooled around him was drying in the warmth of the evening. He was aware of movement near him, perhaps that of the woman from inside, or even one of the Chocobos.

He didn't move until a familiar figure came into his field of vision, and then it was only to raise his head to meet stern and confused eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

A strategic question, he acknowledged. Not 'are you okay?' or 'are you well?' Because he wasn't, was he?

"No. The fall was startling, but the water was warm." Isaaru let out a soft laugh. "The fall wasn't the worst part. So no, I'm not hurt."

Maroda's gaze was scrutinizing, his eyes seeming to search Isaaru's face for some indication of what may have been the worst part. He glanced down and reached out to touch the sword, Isaaru's fingers closing a little tighter around it. "Why do you have this?" His brother asked quietly.

"Because it seemed a shame to leave it down there." The older male squeezed his eyes shut.

/Really?/ A soft murmur at the back of his head said, tone dry and unimpressed.

"Down where? At the bottom of the lake?" Maroda asked. Gritting his teeth, Isaaru opened his eyes and stared at his brother. After a moment without words, the younger male exhaled and shook his head. "You must have calmed yourself down. They said you were raving."

"Maybe I was." Isaaru murmured in reply, beginning to shiver. "Maroda, I think... I think maybe we ought to take tomorrow to rest."

"But we rested all of today already." Maroda spoke carefully, but urgently. Isaaru understood why. His brother wanted him to be well, but their journey had to continue.

"We need to talk." He managed to say, Maroda simply nodding. "It's about the sword-"

/Is this a good idea?/

"H-he's my brother." Isaaru suddenly hissed, Maroda blinking at him and the look of concern growing deeper.

"The sword is your... brother?" The younger male said after a moment. "That makes no sense."

"I wasn't... That's not what I mean. I think..." Isaaru swallowed. "I think I might be losing my mind."

…

The Al Bhed woman made them tea. Isaaru bundled himself into a large blanket and sat staring across the room at the sword with a guarded yet haunted expression. The shivering had finally stopped, and by the time it did, Isaaru was half done his tea and ready to talk.

"What were you doing out there?" Maroda asked gently, Isaaru huffing out a sigh.

"I've never been one for sunsets. Everyone... always comes here to watch the sun set. I wanted to see the moon on the water, so I went to the ridge." He dragged the tie loose from his damp red hair and lowered his eyes. "I guess all of those big meals in Luca got the better of me because I fell... the bank gave way under me and I fell into the water." His tone implied almost playful self-depreciation. His brothers often teased him for being out of shape, after all.

"Lucky for us, there was no storm. The water was calm tonight." Maroda muttered, retrieving the towel he had been using and offering it to Isaaru. "Otherwise-"

"I think I may have been fine." Isaaru said hurriedly, taking the towel and using it to dry his hair. "There's actually a cave down there."

The silence at the back of his mind had taken on a curious tension, like an audible ellipsis. Isaaru swallowed and lowered his eyes.

"So, you went into the cave?" Maroda asked, refilling their teacups.

"Yes. I did." Fingers clenching on the cloth of his robe where it covered his legs, Isaaru opened his eyes again but didn't look at his brother. "What I'm about to tell you, Maroda, I tell you in confidence."

"Meaning keep quiet." Maroda grunted and sat back, folding his arms. "I'm listening."

"There was a... a..." Isaaru drew in a breath. The silence at the back of his head moved closer to the front and drew in a breath of its own.

"Sword. I saw it." Maroda gestured.

"A statue." Isaaru said, breath rushing out of him.

"Like the one of Lord Mi'ihen?" Maroda frowned again. It was a familiar expression that told Isaaru that his brother may have simply been humoring him.

"A statue of the Fayth." Isaaru felt his throat grow thick and his eyes begin to burn.

That statue had been as beautiful and unique as any of the Fayth statues he had encountered previously, but there had been something about it... something that had whispered to him and called him forth.

It was a woman, eyes closed in a face that was half covered by a mask. Her body was wrapped in chains that trailed out to the walls behind the statue and at her feet lay the sword.

He had known what she was immediately. The summoner in him had done exactly what it was meant to do.

Isaaru had prayed.

There had been no image of what the woman once was, not like there had been in Bevelle where he was from, or in Kilika, or even far off Besaid.

There was a storm of pyreflies that had bombarded him from all sides, an inarticulate wail of agony that flooded him then a whisper at the back of his head.

"She said 'finally'." He said softly. "Like... she had been waiting for me to come."

"They're all waiting for the summoners. Maybe it was a sign." Maroda's tone was conflicted. "Maybe Yevon means for you to be the one."

/Does he even believe in Yevon?/

"No." Isaaru said out loud, then immediately put a hand to his head. "That can't be it."

"Why don't we sleep on it. In the morning, we'll see if you're feeling better." Maroda got up and put his hand on Isaaru's shoulder. "And if you're up to it, we'll go to Djose."

"Yes, I'd like that." Isaaru got up and allowed himself to be led to his bed. /Can you... hear me?/

/Your thoughts are mine and all that./ There was a hint of amused annoyance in the voice. /So yes, I hear you./

/That's good. If I remember to think before speaking, maybe I can avoid looking crazy./

/Crazier./ The voice corrected.

Isaaru grit his teeth and said nothing in response. Maybe sleep would find him waking up to all this being a bad dream.

If it turned out it was real...

/You should tell me your story tomorrow. If I wake up and you're still there, I'll be ready to listen./ He thought, the cautious hope that stole through him not entirely his own.

…

Dark dreams chased him through his sleep, but the news they received upon waking was no doubt the reason.

Kilika had been destroyed. Sin had come and taken dozens of lives and had left a ruin in its wake.

Isaaru prayed for the survivors and dead alike, because he saw them all as victims. Somewhere inside him, he was grateful that he and his brothers had escaped the destruction. Isaaru wasn't sure he had the strength to bury one of his family.

/They really mean a lot to you./

/They're my brothers./ Isaaru thought, cheeks flushing. /You were listening./

/I had no choice./ She replied, but there was no bitterness in her internal voice. /You have strong thoughts, strong emotions. Do all summoners feel like you do?/

Isaaru was rather taken aback. Her question implied that his was the first prayer she had received.

"How long-" He began, pausing when he saw Maroda and Pacce move into the room. /How long have you been down there?/

/I think time works differently for the dead./ She murmured in reply.

"How are you?" Maroda asked him, Isaaru getting to his feet. "You rested well."

"Yes. I think pressing on is wise in light of this morning's news." Isaaru managed a smile that Maroda didn't return. "We should make haste to Djose."

"If you're sure. I don't want you collapsing on the road." Maroda did look genuinely concerned, but Isaaru waved a hand and smiled a little more brightly.

"I am sure. I'll be fine." Pacce looked back and forth between them while they spoke, his eyes lit with curiosity.

"Did somethin' happen?" The boy questioned, Maroda giving Isaaru a guarded look before answering.

"Our bigger brother has been eating too many sweets. He fell in the water last night." Maroda rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, Pacce laughing.

"So that means no Chocobos for you!" The boy declared, Isaaru sighing in surrender. "You gotta walk your butt all the way up the road!"

"Yessir!" Isaaru saluted, nodding at Maroda. As his brothers moved away, he watched with a heavy heart.

/Maroda's worried./ He thought quietly, a soft laugh answering him.

/If it were him in your shoes, wouldn't you be?/

/But I'm not crazy, am I?/ Isaaru closed his eyes briefly before moving to join his brothers. /I mean, the statue IS down there.../

/Of course. And to answer your question from earlier more clearly, Isaaru, it can't have been more than a year, but it's definitely been longer than a month./

"Not long." Isaaru breathed aloud, Maroda glancing at him sidelong. /Am I the first to find you?/

/Yes, actually. I didn't think anyone would./ She seemed almost... relieved. It was the same relief he had encountered when his prayer had been answered. /But then, there you were... and here I am./

/What's your name?/ He ventured to ask, stepping out of the way as a cart carrying covered cargo moved past.

The answer took a moment during which he waited silently.

/Paine. My name is Paine./

…

Maroda had seen his brother swim around for hours without effort or loss of breath, but it took less than an hour walking up the road for the older male to start sweating and breathing hard.

They paced themselves as slowly as Maroda dared, the middle brother trying to keep them as on schedule as possible.

Every so often, Isaaru would say something out loud, then fall silent and look embarrassed. Pacce gave him a strange look but said nothing. It did little to quell all of Maroda's concerns.

Three hours into their journey, they were away from the flat, open spaces that made up the highroad, moving instead into the red rock and high cliffs along the sea that indicated they now traveled the Mushroom Rock road. It was far cooler here, but the path was narrower and Isaaru was obviously beginning to tire.

Maroda figured they had half a day at least to reach the Djose highroad and the temple beyond that was another two hours still. If they paused briefly now to rest, they could probably make the temple before midnight.

"We'll take fifteen." He called, moving his brothers off to the side of the road, up against the cliff wall. "C'mon, let's get something to eat."

"Thank you." Isaaru breathed, settling down with a look of gratitude on his face. He drank from the waterskin that Pacce offered and ate the snacks that Maroda allowed him, but he didn't offer any conversation.

Maroda regarded him carefully, taking note of his appearance. While there was a distant look in his eyes, there were no signs that he was in any sort of distress.

There was a scream from up the road, Pacce the first one to his feet and Maroda close behind him.

"Fiends?" Isaaru asked as he got up with not so much hesitation as stiff difficulty.

"Seems so. I guess lunch is canceled." Maroda unsheathed his sword and looked at his brothers. "C'mon, we'll go and help."

It only took a moment to reach the source of the cry for help, a pair of women trapped by a massive serpent in an alcove and a man who had been turned to stone, arm still stretched out in mid-swing.

"Pacce! Soft!" Maroda called, Pacce dropping down behind them and rooting through his pack.

Isaaru began casting immediately, Maroda rushing towards the serpent with sword in hand.

…

/What are you doing?/

/H-healing. That's what I do?/ Isaaru frowned as his spell went off and green light glimmered around the two women.

/They're fine. Go help Maroda!/ Paine demanded.

Isaaru could feel the anticipation she exuded, the sharp edge of training he had never had bearing down on him and making him want to crawl out of his own skin.

/I AM. By staying out of the way./ He exhaled and prepared another spell for the man that Pacce was un-petrifying.

/Come on!/ Paine protested. /Just go and punch it!/

/I don't punch things./

/Then hit it with my sword!/

/I have trouble lifting it, I can't wield it!/

/Then use your stick!/

"Paine!" Isaaru exclaimed, his spell surrounding the man, who turned back to the fight to help Maroda. "I am not a fighter!"

/Then how are you supposed to fight Sin?/ She snarled.

"I'll do it with the Final Aeon!" Isaaru began to cast protection magic, Maroda looking at him in surprise at his words. "I'll summon!"

/Right... well then, summon me, what are you waiting for?!/

Maroda met Isaaru's gaze, the two men exchanging unspoken confirmation of what was about to happen.

"Get back!" Maroda shouted, moving the man who fought next to him out of the way and gesturing for Pacce to get the women to safety. "Hurry Isaaru!"

Nodding, Isaaru took a breath, reaching into the anticipatory presence at the front of his mind and calling it forth.

The runes that blossomed beneath his feet were bright, a mix of red, grey, white and silver, and as the light faded, he felt the presence flood away and manifest.

Dark blades spun down from the sky, circling around the form of a woman who appeared in the air before him. Light exploded from her and revealed rudimentary wings in place of arms, a sleek body with a face whose only feature wereeyes that burned red.

Sweeping one wing through the air in front of her, the Aeon blew away the dark shroud that seemed to cover her body, taking on colors that were similar to the sword he had found at the foot of her statue, the same colors as the runes used to summon her.

Her face took on more defined features, but an expressionless mask fell over them. The blades circled above her head and legs that were more insect than human slammed into the ground.

Raising eyes that burned red behind the mask she wore, the Aeon offered silent challenge to the serpent she faced. The fiend rattled its tail and bared fangs with a hiss, slithering forth to meet her.


End file.
